


this is home

by theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Eryn Lasgalen, F/M, Healing, Lonely Mountain, Middle-Earth history, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Pining, Non-canon ships, Post-Lord of the Rings, Slow Burn, War Aftermath, courtly romance, elf parties, experimental ship fic, history field trips, home isn't a place it's a person, rapids shooting, rebounds...kind of??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-09-18 01:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm
Summary: Legolas returns home after the War of the Ring and finds it difficult to adjust, especially after he learns of some...interesting developments in his father's love life. Luckily, Mirkwood has opened its doors to some Elvish newcomers, and one of them, Lady Mìriel, happens to find it difficult to adjust to her new residence as well. Feeling like strangers in a place that is supposed to be home, Legolas and Mìriel forge a bond that grants them security, then friendship, and eventually something that might be called romance.





	1. Prologue: The Road to Eryn Lasgalen

**Author's Note:**

> This fic builds on what I know canonically happened after 'The Return of the King', blending the events and characters of the movies with the timeline of the books. I wanted to put my own spin on Legolas' story post-trilogy (although he's like, what, my 4th favourite character ahaha) and explore what it might be like in Middle-Earth after the war. 
> 
> I actually wrote this fic a few years ago, posted it on Quotev and swore I'd upload it to Ao3...alas that day did not come till now. Recently I went back to reread it and realized...it's not bad. 
> 
> I hope you will think so, too.

The road went ever on and on, and down its winding path came a host of elves. Some were on horseback and some were on foot, and still more sang a long, melancholy song. It was a song of hope, but most of it sounded mournful and sad, and rightly so. For these elves were leaving their ruined mountain haven behind and, unwilling yet to go West, were seeking a home elsewhere.

At the head of the procession rode Lady Inara, and by her side, on a dapple-grey Elvish steed, rode her daughter, Lady Mìriel. Mìriel's face and dark brown hair were covered by a white hood, concealing her face when she bowed her head. And bowed her head remained, all the way from the beginning of their journey to its end, in some kind of silent and solitary sorrow that she would not share even with her mother.

For Mìriel had lost her father. Their mountainside dwelling, a small city by Elf standards, had been destroyed during the War of the Ring. In battle, its lord-- Lady Inara's husband-- was killed. There was nothing left for their people in those mountains now, especially with so many elves leaving for Valinor; so Inara did what she thought was best for her people and moved them from one home to another. To Mirkwood, now called Eryn Lasgalen, the great and enduring realm of King Thranduil, where he promised they would be safe.

"You do not seem happy, my daughter," Lady Inara said softly to Mìriel as they rode. 

"Today is not a happy day," came the quiet reply.

"But you cannot be unhappy always, Mìriel. You have an eternity ahead of you, one you must find joy in." Lady Inara kept her eyes on the road ahead. "Besides, you must smile for our people. Show them you still have hope."

Do I? Mìriel didn't exactly feel like it.

She did not smile. She did not sing. She looked at the winding road ahead, the road that led to the Woodland Realm, and tried not to think of the future.


	2. Welcome Home, Son

 

_Has this place changed, or have I changed?_

Thoughts flew around Legolas' head as he entered the royal palace, accompanied by a royal escort ( _haven't had one of these in a while,_ he mused.) Since leaving all those years ago, the forest had become healthier, brighter, less...Mirkwood-y. It had been a year since the War ended, and the stain of the Dark Lord was fading fast...though not fast enough.

Legolas was returning home from a whole year touring Middle-Earth with his best friend Gimli (a dwarf-- who would have thought it?) And he had been putting off and putting off coming back for a long time now, but the forces of Sauron were still running amok, the Woodland Realm needed its prince to help defend it, and anyway, it was about time he popped in to say hello to his father and a few old friends.

Old friends, like the tall red-haired she-elf who greeted him at the door.

"Do you remember me, my prince?" she said, a smile growing on her lips. Legolas knew her at once.

"Tauriel," he gasped. "Of course I remember you!" They embraced each other, laughing.

"Mae govannen!" she said.

"Tauriel, this is a wonderful surprise!" Legolas stammered. "Didn't-- didn't my father banish you?"

A twinkle leaped into Tauriel's eyes. "He changed his mind." She took his hand. "Come on. Your father is quite excited to see you."

"My father, excited?" Legolas couldn't help but wonder, prompting another laugh from Tauriel.

"You've been around," Tauriel said. "We've all heard of your daring adventures. You are quite the hero, Mellon-nin."

 _Mellon._ A long time ago it hurt to hear her call him that; nothing more than a friend. But sixty-two years had passed since he'd left home, and whatever it was Legolas used to feel for her was now a forgotten memory.

Besides, he was sure that Tauriel's heart belonged to no one after the Battle of the Five Armies.

They made their way into the throne room, which as far as Legolas remembered, had not changed much from his childhood; although he did notice that more light was let into the room, dappling the carven wood with uneven shadows.

One thing that definitely _had_ changed in his absence? King Thranduil. Legolas couldn't quite put a finger on it; was it the way his father smiled at him, or his gesture of welcome when he saw his son come in?

"Mae govannen, ion-nin," he said warmly. _Warmly._ This was new. "Finally after all these years, you have decided to return to me." Thranduil clasped his son's hand, and father and son bowed to one another. "The Kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen welcomes you home."

Legolas found himself smiling. "It's good to be back, Father." _Well, that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Maybe it's time I started to reforge a bond with my father..._

Thranduil nodded, then cocked his head as if looking at something past his son's ear. "Well, don't I get a kiss?"

"What?" said Legolas, taken aback, and was further surprised when Tauriel's voice answered, laughing.

"Of course, darling," she said, and she stepped forward and kissed his father. Really kissed him. And he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.

Legolas was absolutely stunned. _What is going on here?_ Nobody else in the room seemed perturbed by what was happening. It dawned on him that whatever it was between his father and Tauriel, it had been going on for a long time now.

He'd more or less gathered himself by the time they broke apart. "Oh," Legolas said, "so the two of you are...?"

Tauriel giggled.

"Yes!" they said in unison.

"For-- for how long?"

"Ten years, I believe," said Thranduil calmly. He smiled at Tauriel.

Legolas swallowed.

"What is it, son?" Thranduil asked. The two of them peered at him expectantly.

Legolas managed a smile. "Nothing. I'm so happy for you."

 

* * *

 

"Much has changed since the fall of Sauron," said Thranduil, as they walked through the garden paths of the palace compound.

"Tell me about it," mumbled Legolas. His father didn't notice.

"We have expanded our borders and split the forests with Lord Celeborn's people. And we have opened doors to our kind from other cities...cities that have suffered much during the war. You will find some new faces among old ones here."

Legolas sneaked a glance at Thranduil, who was holding Tauriel's hand casually. Was this something he had to get used to?

In the corridor they crossed paths with two Elven women, clad in subdued colors and unfamiliar robes. The older of the two bowed her head slightly to Thranduil.

"This is Lady Inara, one of our honored guests," the King said to Legolas. "Her people have taken sanctuary here since their city was destroyed by Sauron's forces."

Lady Inara was tall and grey-eyed, and when she bowed to him he could immediately tell that she was already more at home in his home than he was.

"Mae govannen, my prince," she said courteously. "This is my daughter, Mìriel."

 

 


	3. Adjustments

Mìriel had often wondered what Thranduil's son looked like, and if he was anything like his father. In looks, perhaps there was some resemblance; but in manner, she could tell they were quite different. There was something guarded and cautious in his eyes, definitely not the way someone who had come home should look. Maybe he'd been away for too long.

Mìriel bowed. "I am honored to meet you at last."

"And I am honored to meet you," Legolas said with a small smile. Their eyes met; hers a steady grey, his a piercing blue.

"You are one of our healers, are you not, Lady Mìriel?" Tauriel asked, and Mìriel turned her attention to the red-headed elf.

"Yes, I am," she said, but said nothing more, even when Tauriel and Legolas seemed to expect her to say something else.

"Please excuse us for now, your majesty," Inara put in politely, "We have business elsewhere."

"Of course, my lady."

Thranduil, Tauriel and Legolas went in one direction, and Inara and Mìriel went the other. Mìriel glanced back at the little group, hearing Tauriel laugh loudly and merrily. She also noticed the look on her mother's face, which had changed visibly from its pleasant demeanor earlier.

"You still don't like Tauriel?"

Inara's lips thinned. "I never said that."

"But you look it."

"I just don't know what Thranduil was thinking, getting all tangled up with her _."_

This was new. "Mother...are you jealous?"

Lady Inara shook her head, as if such petty emotions were beneath her. "Jealous? Of course not. But the king has been my friend for centuries now, so I do know him. And I hardly think she and he are an appropriate match."

"Just because she's a Silvan elf?" Mìriel said, keeping her voice low.

"Exactly _because_ she's a Silvan elf."

Mìriel said nothing. She would never understand her mother's by-now old-fashioned classism, and her emphasis on the difference between the Sindar, the Vanyar and other castes of Elves. But what did it truly matter? The war had made it so that even the fairest of Middle-Earth's races were the same now: scarred by violence and forced to rebuild with what was left to them.

"You and Tauriel do not speak to each other?" Lady Inara asked now, as they continued walking.

"I don't speak to anyone," Mìriel said softly.

"Iell-nin, it's been a _year_ since we moved here," Inara said impatiently. "Surely you must have made _some_ friends by now, rather than while away your life in the library..."

"I am studying my craft, Mother."

Even in her old home, Mìriel had begun to learn the healing arts. It was one way she could make herself useful to her people during the war, and she learned it by tending to her father's soldiers. It was she who looked after him in his final days. Upon arrival at Eryn Lasgalen, Mìriel expressed her wish to continue as a healer, and soon became an valuable asset to the infirmaries of the King.

Her second passion was for history, for the tales of Middle-Earth that had come to pass long ago. Certainly an elf of her age had lived through most of that history, but Mìriel had never experienced it beyond her own home. She was curious about what had been going on in other lands as she was growing up. That knowledge instantly became hers in the grand royal library, where Mìriel could safely lose herself and never have to speak to anyone.

"But surely you don't need to do it all the time," Lady Inara said.

"I'm _fine_ , " Mìriel promised. "I'm perfectly all right being on my own."

 

* * *

 

"You think it strange, don't you?"

"What?" said Legolas. He was startled as Tauriel joined him at the big window in the foyer.

"Your father. And me. Together," she said, folding her arms uncertainly.

Legolas frowned. "No, I just think it's rather sudden."

"It's been _sixty-two_ years since you left, Legolas," Tauriel said. "There's nothing sudden about it. A lot has changed since then."

He looked at her and wanted to say so much-- that he used to love her, that he never thought his father could love any woman after his mother died, how surreal it was for him-- but instead he took a deep breath, and settled for the question that might answer them all.

"Tell me how it happened."

Tauriel smiled. "I'm not sure, really. Your father and I spent a lot of time together after the Battle of the Five Armies. We rebuilt Dale, we drove the spiders away, but mostly I think we kept each other company. And so it went for years and years."

"It's very...odd," Legolas admitted. "I never thought...after my mother died..."

"Neither did I, at the start," said Tauriel. "I thought I might mourn Kili and what could have been between us for all time."

There was a heavy pause. It was the first Legolas had heard her mention the dwarf.

Tauriel sat down at the windowsill. "It was Thranduil who guided me out of my grief."

"He's no stranger to it," said Legolas softly.

"Well, you had left, and later King Bard died, then many of our greatest warriors. In the end, I suppose all that was left was me." She smiled up at him, "At first, there was a big distance between us, because he is of the Sindar and I am a Silvan elf...but we realised our shared experiences mattered more than that."

"I thought he had banished you. I thought he _disliked_ you," mumbled Legolas. "That was why I left, you know. Well, part of the reason why I left."

Tauriel looked at him almost pityingly. "It was?"

He nodded. "Remember what I said? If there was no place for you, there was no place for me." Legolas glanced at her. "All right, maybe I was just waiting for an excuse to get out here, but you were my friend. You still are." He smiled back.

"I know it's strange, Legolas. But I do love your father, very much." Tauriel touched his shoulder. "I hope that will not change our friendship."

Legolas shook his head. "No, I assure you it won't. Perhaps a long time ago, it would have...but now, I only want you both to be happy."

Something flickered in her eyes-- did she know how Legolas used to feel about her?-- but she only nodded. "Thank you, Legolas." 

"Well, in any case," he replied, "I think now you know him more than I do!"

Tauriel beamed. "I'm sure you will both get to know one another again."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters should be enough for now *dusts hands* 
> 
> Updates will resume after Christmas!


	4. A Chance Encounter

Mìriel liked to think of herself as a shadow, passing unseen through the halls of the royal palace. Its vast expanse, with the exception of the throne room and the king's chambers, was freely accessible to her and her mother, who had their own suite as members of Elvish nobility. She moved quietly amidst throngs of Elves into the library, or the infirmary where a scout or hunter had need of healing, or to the gardens, where birdsong filled the air and she could be alone with her thoughts or a tall glass of claret.

That afternoon she sat by herself on a bench beneath the high arc of a garden pavilion, just outside the banquet hall. The first harvest of wild apples had come in, and the harvesters were passing out the first fruits generously to anyone who passed by. Mìriel bit into her apple, relishing its sweet firmness. She was perfectly by herself; no one was going to bother her here.

"Hello?"

Mìriel jumped, dropping her apple. It rolled all the way across the floor and to the feet of a tall, blond Elf. She turned, blinking in surprise, as the prince-- of course, it _had_ to be the prince, didn't it?-- bent over and picked it up.

Legolas met her eyes. "My lady, I am so sorry." _What is she doing here all alone?_ he thought.

"I didn't hear you come in, my prince," Mìriel said in a small voice. He smiled and approached her.

"Did I startle you?"

"Yes."

"I apologize." He almost handed her the apple, but withheld it. "Oh...you can't eat this anymore, can you?"

Mìriel shook her head, amused. "No, I imagine I can't."

Legolas looked sheepish for a second before holding up his own apple. "Take mine."

 _What?_ Mìriel found herself blushing furiously. "Oh no...no I couldn't."

"I insist." He offered her his apple and tried to meet her eyes again. "Lady Mìriel, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"The healer," he guessed, and smiled when her eyes lit up.

"Yes. You remember?"

"I suppose it just stuck in my memory," Legolas replied. "Here, take it. Don't worry about me."

There was something gently coaxing in his tone, but Mìriel hesitated. _I can't take a whole apple from a prince._

Legolas sensed her apprehension. "All right. We'll share it. How does that sound to you?"

"That sounds better, my prince," said Mìriel, with a more relaxed air.

She sounded very shy, as if talking to people wasn't something she was used to. Legolas didn't want to make her feel so uneasy. "Please," he said with a smile, "call me Legolas."

 

* * *

 

Legolas split the apple with his knife, and watched Mìriel eat away at her half of it daintily. She was, he noticed, a timid and quiet girl, who drew her knees up close to her and kept her head bowed.

"So why were you out here by yourself?" he queried.

Mìriel looked up. "It's a habit, I suppose. I am always by myself, or with my mother."

"Lady Inara."

"Yes."

"And what about your father? I don't think I have met him."

Mìriel's lips thinned. "My father was killed at the end of the War of the Ring. A rogue Orc raid. Burned down half of our city." She sighed. "That is why we have come here."

Legolas immediately regretted being so un-subtle about asking after her father. "I'm sorry about that. My mother died in battle, too."

"Yes, I heard, and I am sorry too," Mìriel said softly. "You must miss her."

He nodded. "Sometimes, yes."

 _Mìriel, stop. Such a topic must be too painful for him._ She changed tack. "But at least he has Tauriel, doesn't he? The two of them look happy enough."

Legolas smiled. "I think he is."

Mìriel regarded him almost searchingly. "And what do you think?" She was beginning to warm towards this kind, somewhat awkward Elf prince who had deigned to share a fresh fruit with a stranger. And it wasn't like her to dig into palace intrigues, but...she really _was_ curious to know what he thought.

To her surprise, Legolas' expression was amused and somewhat wry. "May I tell you something, Lady Mìriel?"

"Is it a secret?" Mìriel asked. "My prince, we've known each other for all of...fifteen minutes, I believe."

"And in those fifteen minutes, I can already tell that you could be good at keeping secrets. Or have I misjudged you?" he said, almost teasingly.

A shadow of a smile flickered across Mìriel's face. "Because you know I have no one to tell."

"Ah, I did not mean that," Legolas said.

"Now I'm curious," said Mìriel, her voice still soft, but her eyes round and expectant. "Tell me."

Legolas folded his hands. "I...used to love Tauriel. Well, I was very young at the time, I'm not sure if it truly was love. But I had feelings for her."

"She's very beautiful," Mìriel agreed. "Coming back home must be so...awkward."

He nodded. "A little, yes. Especially because I never thought my father would never love anyone after my mother."

"And did you never tell her?"

"No. There was...someone else." He looked at her, reminiscing. "A dwarf."

Mìriel chuckled.

"Now, now," Legolas chided, smiling. "My best friend is a dwarf, you know."

"Yes, we have heard a great deal about you two," said Mìriel. "In any case, Tauriel and your father look very happy together, despite the years between them."

"You are right, they are quite happy," Legolas agreed. "And that's what matters."

 _What about you? Are you happy, my prince?_ Mìriel wanted to say, but decided against it.

"And how has the past year been, my lady?" Legolas asked her now. "Has my father treated you with welcome?"

Mìriel smiled. "He has been most kind, as have all your people."

"And yet here you are, alone."

"Like I said, my prince...it's a habit," Mìriel said. "But despite your people's efforts to welcome us, I still...I still miss my home. It's not the same, here. And I don't think I have gotten used to it yet."

Legolas nodded. "Then, I suppose the two of us must learn to get used to it together."

_Maybe it will make things easier._

 


	5. Beautiful

After their first little encounter, Legolas quite lost track of Lady Mìriel. She was, he assumed, back in her solitary little corners of the palace, places he had probably long forgotten. It was a shame, as he had enjoyed their conversation, short as it was. He wondered if they would ever get a chance to talk again.

That chance came along sooner than he expected, when he wandered into an obscure book of the royal library and found Mìriel sitting at a table poring over a leather-bound tome.

"Lady Mìriel!"

"Prince Legolas," she said, looking up. Her startled expression at once grew into a soft smile. "So you have found me again, try as I might to conceal myself."

"I assure you I did not do it on purpose," Legolas said, and began to scan the rows of shelves rapidly.

Mìriel, distracted, peered at him. "Is there something you seek, my prince?"

"A book on history," he mumbled, casting his eyes all over the spines of books before him. "I've combed the whole library so far and haven't found it yet."

Mìriel glanced at the book she was reading, then stood and showed him the cover. "Is this it?"

Legolas stared. "Yes. This is it, my lady!"

"Then here," she said politely, offering it to him.

"Oh," Legolas said, "you were reading it first." He took a step back as if to leave her.

"No, this time it is my turn to insist," Mìriel said. "I'm sure you would need it more...wouldn't you?"

Legolas took the large volume. "And where did this book end, my lady?"

Mìriel shrugged. "Shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies, I believe. That is the last chapter in the book. In which case, it is a rather dated copy, considering all the things that have happened in Middle-Earth since then."

The prince flicked through the pages with his thumb. "Then I believe it's time we added some more chapters," he said.

"You would do that?" Mìriel said, looking at the book.

"Seeing as I _did_ fight in most of the war...yes, I would," Legolas responded. "Such stories must be recorded for all time, especially for those we elves choose to leave behind in Middle-Earth."

"This isn't the _only_ history book in here. I'm sure there are others. The library is quite large, my prince."

"Not that large," said Legolas, looking around. "The one in Rivendell is larger."

"Rivendell?" Mìriel echoed. "You've been to Rivendell?" When Legolas nodded, she had to hold back a gasp of delight. "I have _always_ wanted to visit the library of the Last Homely House. It is a place of healing and learning after all, and those are my two favorite things..." She trailed away, realizing she was talking too much, but Legolas smiled. It heartened him to see her beginning to open up.

"Will you help me look for the rest of the history books, Lady Mìriel?" he asked her. "Even a keen-sighted archer like me will need some help. I've grown far too accustomed seeking shadows in the woods, not titles on a cover." Legolas hugged the volume to his chest. "And I would appreciate the company."

 _Is he really asking for my help?_ Mìriel brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face. "Well...I am at your service, my prince."

Together they walked down the corridors, seeking the books of history that needed fresh pages. And all at once, Legolas began to talk; telling her of his adventures, his travels, the sights he had seen and the battles he had fought.

And Mìriel, fascinated, listened to him.

 

* * *

  
"The glittering caves," said Legolas, tracing one finger over a portion of the map that lay unrolled between them. "I went there, too."

"With Gimli," said Mìriel, by now familiar with the names of Legolas' friends. One he often talked about was the dwarf warrior with a chip on his shoulder and a loyal heart. 

"Yes, with Gimli," Legolas said, grinning. 

"And where is Gimli now?"

"He has returned home to his people. Many races of Middle-Earth are on their path to peace."

The pair of them had been working on the books for two weeks now, learning to unbind them from their covers, add more pages and bind them again; not just leather to paper, but words to words, telling the story of the War of the Ring the best way they could. Mìriel was thrilled at Legolas' daring tales, expanding the world for her as she had never quite known it before. They were colleagues, partners in crime, searching for any old book that needed a long-awaited update and adding chapters to it as needed. 

But that was the only time they spent with each other. During most of the day, Legolas was occupied elsewhere; Mìriel was running her shifts at the infirmaries. They met at close of day in the library, at the same table now strewn with various writing implements, and tossed bits and pieces of the day's events at each other with a growing casualness that Mìriel was beginning to appreciate. 

There was, however, still spare time for her to use at her leisure, for her to relish alone, and these moments Mìriel often spent in the woods.

Leaves were falling, red and brittle, underneath her feet as Mìriel walked through the forest paths, the trees a blaze of sunset colors around her.  _ Beautiful,  _ she thought.

She rounded a corner and nearly jumped out of her skin to see a figure standing in a clearing.  _ Agh! Calm down, Mìriel. It's just...Legolas. _

_ Again.  _

He didn't seem to notice her, though. He seemed quite focused, as he lifted a tall bow and drew back on it. For a split second, Mìriel watched him tense, and then all at once release the string effortlessly.  _ Twang.  _ An arrow sliced through the air, embedding itself in a tree. As soon as it hit, Legolas turned swiftly, drew, sighted, fired--  _ twang, _ another arrow in another tree. Again and again. Turn, draw, fire,  _ twang,  _ until a ring of trees around him were stuck with arrows and the leaves scattered under Legolas' swift footsteps.

Mìriel watched him, a blur of green fabric and pale blond hair, moving as effortlessly as summer wind rushing through leaves. And once more she found herself thinking:  _ beautiful. _

_ Stop it, Mìriel, _ she reproached herself amusedly.

Legolas finally lowered his bow, drawing to a still. He turned, a look of amusement on his face.

"So it seems that I am not the only one who finds you when you are alone," he said, and looked at her with a smile. 

"Did you notice long ago, or only now?" Mìriel asked, emerging from behind the branches.

"I must admit, only now. You are so quiet that even I couldn't sense you coming." Legolas shouldered his bow. "If you were a scout or a soldier, Lady Mìriel, your soft tread would be considered very dangerous."

Mìriel smiled. "Well, I am only a humble healer, my prince, so that is a shame." She approached him. "You, however, are exceptionally skilled...I mean, I knew that, but I had never seen for myself what you could do with a bow."

"Kind words, my lady. In war, such a skill tends to be taken for granted." He regarded her for a second. "I usually take something to eat after training...would you like to join me?"

"That would be nice," Mìriel replied, and did not hesitate to take his arm when he offered it to her.

* * *

 

"So does it feel like home yet?"

Legolas peered at her, hoping to meet her eyes. Mìriel looked up. 

"Eryn Lasgalen," he said. "Does it feel like home to you?"

"Maybe a little more so than before," Mìriel admitted, "but not quite." She took a sip of wine. 

He gave her a gentle smile. "Give it time."

"Does it feel like home again to you?" She asked.

Legolas was silent for a while before replying. "Not quite, either."

It was her turn to smile. "Then time is what we both need."

"Hello!" said a cheerful, strong voice, and both Mìriel and Legolas looked up to see Tauriel approaching. She beamed.

"Legolas, may I trouble you for the rest of the afternoon? We've recruited some new young scouts who might need your help in archery training..." Tauriel's gaze wandered over Mìriel and the table they shared. "Only if you are not already busy."

To Mìriel's surprise, Legolas looked at her. "Yes...if the lady Mìriel does not mind?"

She felt herself began to blush, taken aback. "Of course I do not mind, my prince. I have business elsewhere, after all." She smiled at him.

"Then I will meet you at the barracks, Tauriel," Legolas said, and with a happy wave Tauriel bid them goodbye.

Mìriel was about to take a drink of wine, when she realized her cup was empty. Legolas reached over and filled it for her.

"Thank you, Legolas," she said softly, as he set the pitcher down.

He looked at her, eyes bright. "You called me Legolas."

Again with the blushing.  _ Stop it, Mìriel! _ "Well, you asked me to, when we first met. I think it's time I started doing so." She smiled. "You have been very kind to me, after all."

"Of course, my lady. You are a guest in my father's home." He rose from the table. "If there is anything you need, all you have to do is ask."

Then Legolas took her hand and kissed it gently, and Mìriel wasn't quite prepared for the rush of warmth that suddenly flooded her arm. He smiled at her as he left, waving goodbye.

Mìriel downed the last of the wine quickly.  _ It's nothing. It's absolutely nothing. _

 

 


	6. Watching Over Durin's Sons

It took nearly two months for Legolas and Mìriel to finish completing all the history books in the library, but at long last they managed it. Fresh pages awaited new fingers to turn through them and read about the War of the Ring themselves.

With Legolas' stories, Mìriel had become quite the expert. He'd told her all about the Fellowship's journey, each and every happy ending that had befallen the members (and rightfully so) and the promise of peace that would come about with King Elessar's rule.

Mìriel wished she could meet his friends.

But the part of history that she was most interested in was the event that had happened not far from Thranduil's kingdom; the quest for Erebor and the slaying of Smaug. From the tallest towers in Eryn Lasgalen she could see the Lonely Mountain, a grey peak in the distance, and wondered where Smaug's bones lay.

Legolas saw her particular interest in that tale, and did his best to recall it for her. He found that he loved to watch the way her eyes lit up when he spoke of the strength of Men, the stubbornness of Dwarves, the unexpected bravery of Hobbits. He relished the rapturous look on her face, listening to him intently when he described the Mines of Moria or the fortress of Helm's Deep. Little by little, Mìriel's shy exterior peeled away, revealing to him an honest, intelligent woman he was glad to call friend. More than anything, Legolas did not want her to feel lonely.

Someone like her did not deserve to be lonely.

So the day they finally finished their little library mission, Legolas decided to surprise her. A little thank-you for helping him.

Autumn was fading and winter was approaching, its chill already beginning to come in through the windows. Mìriel, in the common area of the chambers she shared with her mother, wrapped a shawl around herself and looked up, hearing a rustle coming from above the ceiling. Something knocked on the windowsill, and she turned.

To her surprise, it was Legolas, perched on the tall tree just outside the window much like a cat. He beamed at her.

"I hope I am not intruding, my lady," he said.

Mìriel couldn't help the large smile that crept over her face. "Legolas. Of course not. I should have known it would only be a matter of time before you came over here." She went over and leaned casually on the windowsill. "May I help you?"

"I only wanted to thank you for helping me," Legolas said courteously. "I would not have finished all those books if not for you."

"It was my pleasure, my prince."

He tilted his head. "Would you like to come see the Lonely Mountain?"

"What?" exclaimed Mìriel, her voice breathless. "Really?"

"Yes, Mìriel, really," said Legolas. "Come on! I owe it to you. It will be winter soon, and we won't get a chance again." He reached out a hand.

Thrilled, Mìriel took it.  


* * *

 

They rode horses out of the kingdom gates and down the paths that lead to Erebor, following the river, racing swift as the wind. At last they arrived at the abandoned Lake-town, nothing more than a charred mess of old houses on stilts. In the midst of the wreckage sprawled an age-browned, enormous dragon skeleton.

"Behold, the bones of Smaug," Legolas said, as they walked their horses past.

"Brought down by the mighty arrow of Bard," murmured Mìriel. "He was huge!"

"He was the last great firedrake of the North."

Mìriel's eyes were round as saucers. "This is amazing."

"Oh," said Legolas, a twinkle in his eye, "you have yet to see his hoard."

They continued to ride, past the wreckage of the old town and toward Erebor itself. At last Mìriel found herself standing at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. It was much bigger up close, and took her breath away completely. She and Legolas left their houses at the side of the path, and marveling all the while she followed him into a gaping doorway in the mountain and deep within.

In the dim light of a large, round cavern room, Mìriel saw three stone tombs. Dwarfish runes were carved all over them. When Legolas knelt by the middle one, she realized she was looking upon the final resting places of the last of the Line of Durin.

"King Thorin?" she murmured.

"And his nephews," Legolas replied. "Fili, and Kili." He pointed at the large, glittering gem set into Thorin's tomb. "And that is the heart of the mountain, the Arkenstone."

Mìriel knelt, too. "They were heroes."

Legolas smiled at her. "I promised Gimli I would pay my respects."

The two bowed their heads in silence for a moment, then Legolas stood. He offered a hand to Mìriel and pulled her up.

"Come on." The twinkle was back in his blue eyes, so Mìriel just held her tongue and followed him.

"It feels like nobody has been down here in years," she said, as Legolas led her into a large room. From the way her voice echoed, Mìriel was sure it was the biggest chamber in the mountain. Although it was dark, their elf-eyes could make out mound upon mound of treasure strewn all over the floor.

"The hoard of Smaug," said Legolas. "Stand back, my lady."

Legolas took an arrow from his quiver and lit it using a match. He nocked it and, with the same grace that Mìriel had seen him use in the forest, took aim and let fly.

With incredible accuracy the arrow whistled through the air and landed right in one of the braziers lining the hall, immediately flooding it with light. He did the same with three more arrows, lighting the chamber until the glow of Smaug's treasure grew and grew.

"There we go," said Legolas, satisfied. He shouldered his bow. "Just like you imagined it?"

"More beautiful," Mìriel said breathlessly.

They stood looking at the massive hoard for a few moments, and Legolas could almost hear Mìriel's heart beating rapidly with excitement. He stole a glance at her and felt awash with pride and happiness.

He was surprised when Mìriel tilted her head to him and said "You know what the most wonderful thing is?"

"What?"

She giggled. "We can take anything we want and nobody would stop us."

And before Legolas knew it, she was running off, clambering over the huge pile. Laughing, he tried to call her back, and ended up chasing after her in the golden firelight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next - prepare for a little drama!


	7. A Poisoned Arrow

"I notice that Legolas and Mìriel have become very close of late."

King Thranduil folded his hands and regarded Lady Inara calmly. "They have?"

Inara's lips quirked. "You mean  _ you  _ haven't noticed?"

Thranduil didn't look at all interested. "My dear lady, I have learned long ago that every little thing my son does should not always concern me." He cocked his head. "I am aware that she has been helping him with a little pet project of his, but not that they had become  _ close.  _ How close, I wonder?" 

"That's what I had hoped to ask you about. They could be together at this moment." 

The king chuckled dryly. "And what makes you think that?"

Lady Inara glanced outside the window. "Because they're coming into the courtyard right now."

Thranduil looked taken aback for a second. He strode over to the window and peered out. Two Elvish steeds had slowed to a halt outside, one bearing a brown-haired female rider, the other bearing a blond male.

"Hmm," was all he said, mildly surprised, as Inara said "I  _ told  _ you so" and bustled downstairs.

In the courtyard, Legolas had already jumped off his mount while Mìriel daintily slipped over the horse's side, assisted by the prince's gentle hand. Around her neck hung a round ruby pendant; one small token from the hoard of Smaug.

"Thank you for today, Legolas," she said with a smile. "I...I had fun."

He smiled back. "So did I, Mìriel Pennathril," Legolas said in a teasing tone, but Mìriel knew he was serious. Mìriel Pennathril-- Mìriel the Historian. The name made her glow with pride.

"I'll see you when I see you," she said.

"And I hope that will be soon!" Legolas waved goodbye, shouldering his bow as he mounted the palace steps. "Goodbye. Oh...Lady Inara," he added suddenly, seeing the older elf-woman descend the staircase with a slightly glowering look. Legolas bowed slightly. "Greetings! Um, farewell."

"Farewell," Inara replied as he bounced past her lightly.

Mìriel watched him go, admiring not for the last time the way his fishtail braid flicked this way and that. She barely noticed when her mother reached her.

"I didn't know you and Legolas were such good friends to go gallivanting out of the kingdom with," Inara said.

"Yes. He's very nice. No," Mìriel corrected herself, "kind. That's the word. He's very kind."

"Hmm," said Inara. She tugged on her daughter's sleeve slightly. "Well, we'd better go now, dear."

 

* * *

 

 

Over the winter the Orcs had become greater in number, and more aggressive, and the Elven guard was needed more than ever to defend the borders of Eryn Lasgalen. Legolas was kept busy, leading troops on constant defense and ever-watchfulness against the enemy. At his side was Tauriel, and that always seemed to complicate things-- Thranduil was very keen on ensuring that his younger lover looked out for his only son (and vice versa.) Although neither ever came back with anything worse than a few bruises, there was no mistaking the worry in the king's eyes when they left.

As a result of the little skirmishes between the Guard and the rogue Orcs, more Elvish soldiers came in hurt and injured, and Mìriel was kept busy tending to them. Never did a week go by without a life-threatening case in the infirmary. Although most managed to live, even the best healers could not save everyone. 

Always the thought nagged in the back of Mìriel's head. What if, one day, she found Legolas in here, and it wasn't just because of a friendly visit? 

When he did turn up in the infirmary, it wasn't in the way Mìriel was dreading. But that didn't mean it was any worse.

 

* * *

 

"Tauriel, hold on. We're nearly there, Tauriel."

Legolas held her close to his chest, her breath ragged and shallow, as he raced to the infirmary. Her blood soaked between his fingers, coming steadily out of the wound in her side where a barbed black Orc arrow still lay embedded. 

_ Mìriel. Find Mìriel. She will know what to do.  _ He burst in, reckless with panic. The arrow had been a poisoned one, and any moment now he feared Tauriel's eyes would roll back into her head and she would slip into a sleep that meant certain death. The infirmary was already packed, but instantly Legolas picked her out-- Mìriel in a dark green dress, sleeves rolled up and brown hair pulled back. He called out to her desperately, and she heard him.

Mìriel was at his side at once. "What happened, Legolas?"

"Poisoned arrow, got her in the side, it can't have been more than eight minutes ago, Mìriel,  _ please  _ save her," he begged, words spilling out in a hurried flood. She grabbed his arm and led him to an empty cot where they set down Tauriel. The red-headed elf blinked in pain and groaned.

"At least she's conscious," Mìriel said. She looked her over with a practiced eye. "The poisoned arrows are always the tricky ones. Pull them out too soon and the victim would bleed in the middle of battle. But wait too long, and the poison will go deeper. There is also the fact that it pierced her torso, not merely an arm or a leg..." She set about making Tauriel comfortable with a careful, but maddening calmness.

"But you can cure it?" 

"I can give her athelas and prolonged twelve-hour care," she said, "the rest, I am afraid, we must leave to fate." Mìriel looked at Legolas. An almost delirious panic swam in his eyes. She instinctively reached for his hand and grasped it reassuringly. 

"I trust only you," he whispered.

"And I will not leave her side, but you  _ have  _ to tell your father." 

Legolas stared. "No. No, I can't. I cannot do that to him..."

" _ Legolas, _ " said Mìriel adamantly. "Tell your father. Now."

She wasn't quite sure what had come over her, ordering a prince about; and Legolas was out the door before he began to wonder what had come over  _ him  _ for obeying so easily. But Mìriel was right, he thought. She usually was.

Meanwhile, Mìriel rolled up her sleeves higher, took a deep breath and started to pull the arrow out of Tauriel's side.

 

 


	8. The Warrior and the Healer

The king was, understandably, devastated.

Mìriel had never seen him like it. The minute he entered the infirmary he made a beeline to Tauriel, and his voice shook as he spoke to her. Mìriel was forced to step back and give them some space, as Legolas lingered at the side helplessly.

"She won't wake," Thranduil said weakly.

"I had to give her something to shut her body down and conserve her strength, your majesty," Mìriel said quietly. "Changing her bandages can be...painful. It is better if she sleeps through it. She will also run a fever, but that is unavoidable."

He looked intently at her, and Mìriel thought she could see an ancient kind of heartache deep in his blue eyes.

"Tell me honestly, Mìriel Nestril*. Will she survive?"

"Tauriel is a fighter. She is strong; I am sure she will make it out of this." 

"And Mìriel is the best healer we have," Legolas spoke in an undertone. "I'd say it's a winning combination." Mìriel tried not to smile at such praise. 

"Do everything you can," Thranduil said, voice suddenly steely. 

As if she wasn't already doing that! Mìriel's cheeks flamed. But she bowed. "You have my word as a healer, my lord."

Thranduil drew back, as if he suddenly had difficulty moving his own body. He started to walk away.

"I must go," he mumbled, and swished out of the infirmary in a swirl of silver robes.

"Stay with him," Mìriel encouraged Legolas. "He will need you."

"But..."

"I can handle this," she replied reassuringly, trying to hide her worry. "Go, Legolas. Everything will be fine."

He reached out to her and touched her shoulder gently. "Thank you."

Mìriel just nodded.   
  


* * *

 

All through the night-- forgoing dinner, a drink and rest-- Mìriel stayed with Tauriel, looking after her diligently. During sometime before midnight, Mìriel found herself beginning to speak to the elf warrior, easing her back into consciousness as gently as she could.

"Tauriel, if you don't wake up by sunrise...I'm going to kill you."

No reply.

"I jest, of course," Mìriel amended. "Actually, if you don't make it out, then I believe our king might kill me." She leaned on the edge of the bed. "He cares for you so much. I didn't know how much until today. And I noticed the way he looked at you; like his whole world was going to crumble down if you did not wake. But I know you will," she added, touching Tauriel's hand. "I know you care very much for the ones you love, too."

Tauriel did not stir or give any indication that she heard; or that she was conscious at all. A shaft of moonlight shone down on her pale, weak face as Mìriel heard footsteps approaching. 

"My Lady, do you need help?" It was Lord Argalad, the chief healer. He put a hand on her shoulder, concerned. "You have stayed at Tauriel's side the whole day. Perhaps you need rest."

"No, my lord. The king himself has asked me to look after her and that is what I intend to do," she replied. 

"Your shift was over three hours ago."

"So was yours, my lord."

"Ah, but I run this place. I have a duty to stay here...anyhow, there is a woman in the next ward who may give birth any hour now." He smiled. "So I will wait here until then...if you should need me, Mìriel, do not hesitate to call."

"Yes, Argalad Nestron. Thank you."

Mìriel did not take her eyes off Tauriel for the rest of the night. Finally, some hours after day broke, so did the fever, and weary though she was Mìriel perked up with a new, hopeful energy. Tauriel was breathing normally now.

The mostly-empty infirmary soon echoed with the shrill screams of a newborn baby. Lord Argalad's patient had delivered at last. Mìriel saw Tauriel's eyelids flicker, and she got up and started to open the windows.

Tauriel groaned. "So bright."

"Welcome back, Tauriel," said Mìriel with a smile, as a fresh breeze began to blow in. "What did I tell you? It would take more than a barbed, fire-hardened, lethally poisoned Orc arrow to take you out for good..."

"Mìriel?" Tauriel squinted. 

"No, it's Luthien the fair." Mìriel laughed, out of relief more than anything. "Of course it is me! Now, can I get you anything?"

Tauriel managed a queasy smile. "Where is Thranduil?" She paused. "And who's crying?"

  
  
  


Less than thirty minutes later, with the help of an earnest young messenger, both the king and the prince had arrived back at the infirmary. Thranduil was at Tauriel's side at once, fussing over her softly. Legolas took one look at Tauriel, then at Mìriel.

"You are  _ wonderful, _ " he said in breathless gratitude, eyes shining. Then his tone changed to one of concern. "Have you slept at all?"

She shook her head, trying to hide the happy feeling bubbling up inside her from his praise. "You look like you haven't slept either."

"I was so worried," Legolas said. "We both were. Father was pacing the whole night."

"I'm fine,  _ really, _ " Tauriel insisted, laughing as Thranduil kissed the top of her head. "I am. Mìriel looked after me. I owe her my life." She smiled at Mìriel.

"It seems that we owe Lady Mìriel much this day," said Thranduil, straightening. He, too, smiled at Mìriel and bowed his head to her.

Legolas chuckled. "That, my lady, is Father's way of saying thank you."

"I do mean it," Thranduil put in. "Know that we are in your debt, Mìriel Nestril. If there is anything you should ever want, be it now or in days to come, then I will grant it to you if I can."

Mìriel bowed. "Thank you, my lord."

Though the worst was over, Tauriel still needed to rest in the infirmary for another day. This time Mìriel let Thranduil stay by her bedside as long as he wished. Within a few moments, the pair of them were locked in a passionate kiss. 

"Tauriel, be careful with the bandages...oh, never mind," sighed Mìriel. 

From behind, Legolas put his hands on her upper arms, moving her gently and playfully away. "We should probably leave them alone."

"Wait," said Mìriel, remembering something. 

"What is it?"

She glanced over at the other ward, then back at Legolas. "When was the last time you saw an elf baby?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nestril/Nestron- healer (m/f)


	9. An Invitation

"Normally I would bar too many visitors from the birthing ward, but seeing as it is the prince...and my most skilled healer..." Lord Argalad winked at Mìriel, "and it has been too long since we've had any newborns, I'll make an exception."

Mìriel and Legolas barely heard him as they peered at the tiny babe nestled in his mother's arms. The mother looked exhausted, but thrilled, and the father who stood nearby couldn't stop smiling. 

"It's a son?" Legolas said in a hushed voice. 

"It is, my prince," the mother, Caela, responded with pride. 

"He is so small and sweet," crooned Mìriel. "Isn't this wonderful!"

She could see that the weary parents wanted a moment to rest and be alone with their new child, so she bowed slightly to them and to Lord Argalad and said, "Thank you for letting us see him. And congratulations!"

Legolas put a hand on Mìriel's shoulder, smiling. "Come on."

"Where to?"

"Let's get you something to eat."

  
~~~

 

"Mìriel, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done," Legolas said, as they walked to the dining hall of the palace. "After my mother died...Father wouldn't talk about her. It was centuries before he did. Having Tauriel has changed him. I could not bear to think what would happen to him if he were to lose her too." He looked intently into her eyes. "She's alive because of you."

Mìriel smiled. "As I said, my prince, Tauriel is quite the fighter."

"Yes, she is."

Had Mìriel mistaken that look in his eyes? Was she just imagining it? Legolas told her that he'd loved Tauriel once. Did a shadow of that love still linger in his heart? Why did Mìriel even care? She pushed the thought down, deciding to focus instead on her companion. He laid a hand on the small of her back, treating her as if she were made of spun glass. 

"We've driven the Orcs farther off now," Legolas said quietly. "They would be fools to try to advance again. They might have gotten some of us, but we did wipe out most of them." He sighed wearily.

"You must have had enough of war," Mìriel said, matching his undertone.

"Indeed. But most of the evil is gone now." He smiled at her. "From now on, there shall be nothing but peace."

"And you have helped to bring it about," said Mìriel. "You are a hero, Legolas. Middle-Earth is safe because of you."

She could see a blush starting in his cheeks. "And it is because of actions like yours, my lady-- tireless, unseen, selfless actions-- that makes it worth saving."

His hand found hers under the hem of her sleeve, and Mìriel thought she felt their fingers brush, but it could have been her imagination.   
  


 

* * *

 

With the Orcs completely driven out of the Woodland Realm, Legolas now found himself free to do just about anything he wanted. And, as was often the case when he was idle, he found himself thinking about traveling. 

The opportunity for travel came once more, some days later, with an invitation to Ithilien from Prince Faramir. And not a request to visit, but a request to stay-- and bring any elves who wished to make a home there. 

_ Ithilien's forests need the caring hands of Elves if they are to thrive once again. If you will, my friend, bring a colony of your people here to begin anew; you would be most welcome. And I do recall you saying that the city did need more gardens. _

"Huh," said Legolas, rolling up the message once more and tucking it under his desk. The thought was certainly tempting. Of course, he ran the idea by Thranduil first.

The king looked thoughtful. "They asked for you, specifically?"

"Yes, Father."

"And do you wish to go?"

Legolas didn't know what to say. "If you say that my duty is finished here, Father...then it would most honor me to do so."

"Do you think you've completed your duty?" Thranduil asked, cocking an eyebrow.

_ Is he testing me?  _ "We have defeated the rogue Orcs that directly threatened our realm," said Legolas. "I feel I am no longer needed, not here. But  _ Ithilien... _ Father, I could do some real good. Not just defend and fight, for I tire of war. I want to rebuild."

He was surprised when Thranduil put a hand on his shoulder. "I know where your heart lies, ion-nin. You want to travel once more and be among other races." A small smile appeared on the Elf-king's lips. "You will be free to go, if that is what your heart decides. I realize now that we have protected and sheltered ourselves for far too long; it is time the Elves of the Woodland started to do their part for the rest of Middle-Earth."

Legolas smiled back. He bowed. "Thank you, Father."

Thranduil nodded. "Think about it first."   
  
  


That was what Mìriel said to him too, when he explained it to her. He spoke of leaving Eryn Lasgalen and forging bonds with other races in a city almost half a world away, where the ravages of war had struck hard and were in need of healing. 

She looked up at him, and something tugged slightly on her heartstrings. Eryn Lasgalen without Legolas? It just wouldn't be the same. Mìriel didn't want him to leave. But the choice was up to him. 

She did not say the things she felt. She just nodded. "Think about your choice first, Legolas."

He sighed, almost relieved. "All right, then I will." 

As they walked onward, an awkward silence threatened to come between them. Legolas broke it, almost recklessly.

"If I went, would you come?"

"What?" M ì riel was stunned. 

"Yes. Come with me. Help me start a colony." He smiled hopefully. "I would be greatly honored to have a woman of your skill at my side."

"Oh," said M ì riel, taken aback. "Oh, no...my prince, I..."  _ You are asking me to leave behind my whole life and everything I've had to rebuild after moving here! _

"What is it?" His brow furrowed.

She sighed. "It is just that I have only begun to think of Eryn Lasgalen as my home. I have a duty as healer here...they need me...my mother needs me." She looked up at him. "I am sorry, Legolas. I do not wish to wander as you do. We've lost too much, Mother and I. Everything I have left is here."

"Are you afraid?" he said softly.

M ì riel nodded slowly. "Ithilien. It is almost a world away. So far and so strange. I am...I am far better off here, Legolas. Where my quiet deeds are still needed."

He nodded, and she relaxed when she saw this. He touched her arm gently. "I think I understand. Never mind, M ì riel. Forget I said anything." 

"You never have to apologize to me, my prince," said M ì riel softly, and he smile he gave her washed her completely in radiant light.

  
  


 


	10. Joyous Spring

Winter left Eryn Lasgalen, giving way to spring. Traditionally, the wood-elves arranged a grand, week-long festival to celebrate its return. And if there was anything Thranduil was really good at doing, it was throwing an absolutely sick party.  

"You know, I actually miss this," Legolas said to Tauriel as they entered the banquet area, a clear, large space between the trees already full of Elves in their party best. "I'd nearly forgotten how lavish my father's gatherings can be."

Thanks to Mìriel's continued help, Tauriel was up and about and ready to dance, as if she'd never been hurt at all. She smiled at Legolas. "Then go ahead and enjoy yourself. You deserve it after all the good you do for your people." She touched his arm and left.

Legolas lingered for a moment. _Not only have I forgotten how lavish my father's parties can get, but I've also forgotten how to mingle...among Elves, at least._ Usually when he and Gimli wandered into a tavern on their travels, the Dwarf would urge Legolas into talking to other people or at least try to get him drunk (it never worked.) He scanned the crowd as if looking for something, but wasn't quite sure what it was until he saw her. Mìriel.

As usual, she was on the fringes of the gathering, already nursing a glass of wine, but clad in an elegant beige-gold dress with long, drooping sleeves. Lady Inara was close by, but soon left to converse with Lord Argalad and his wife. Legolas approached, and smiled when he saw Mìriel smile.

"You certainly have a knack for finding me when I'm alone," she said, and looked him up and down. "You look very good, my prince. I haven't seen you wearing anything besides your armor in months."

"And you, my lady, look exceptionally fair," Legolas said to her. He meant it-- standing in front of him, Mìriel looked absolutely glowing. Had he ever noticed before how lovely she truly was? He flicked his eyes about before Mìriel could notice him staring.

Mìriel gestured to Tauriel, already engaged in a lively dance with the king. "Tauriel has recovered greatly, my prince. It heartens me to see her well."

"She wouldn't be here today if not for you," Legolas replied. He watched his father twirl the red-headed elf around spiritedly. Almost everyone else was gamely involved in the festivities; only Mìriel lingered to the side, shyly as ever. Legolas glanced at her. She shouldn't have to be alone.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, almost brashly.

Mìriel's eyes grew very round. "Dance with you?"

Legolas offered his hand and smiled. "Come now, Mìriel. It is far too late for you to be so shy. There's no need for you to be." He tried to meet her eyes, like he did all those months ago when they first met. "At least I am no longer a stranger to you."

"No," she replied, "you are not."

Slowly, hesitantly, Mìriel took his hand. And then, not at all slowly or hesitantly, Legolas pulled her swiftly forward and they started to dance.

_Can he hear my heart pounding_? thought Mìriel. Around them swarmed many pairs of dancers, stepping and whirling, and yet she felt as if the whole clearing was empty. Empty but for them. Then the music picked up, and so did their pace. A cheerful laugh bubbled from her lips, coaxing a laugh from Legolas as well. He loved the way her feet pattered lightly around him, keeping up easily.

"Who taught you to dance, my lady?" he asked her.

"My father." Something sad flashed in her eyes even as she gave him a warm smile. The music finally slowed toward its end, and Legolas surprised her by performing a dramatic dip and sweeping her to the floor.

For a tiny second of eternity, she was so close to him, her eyes locking into his. He pulled them upright abruptly, breaking the moment before either of them could get uncomfortable.

Mìriel's face flushed. "You are a very good dancer, my prince," she said.

"So are you," he said, continuing to look intently at her.

A voice reached her ears. "Mìriel!" It was Lady Inara, and she sounded tipsy already.

"Um," said Mìriel. "I am sorry...May I go?"

"Yes," he said softly. "Of course you may, my lady." A lock of her hair had fallen across her face. Before he knew what he was even doing, Legolas brushed it away and behind her ear. Mìriel felt herself tensing up.

He took a step back. "Joyous spring, Mìriel."

"Joyous spring, Legolas."

A small smile, a slight bow, and Mìriel disappeared into the crowd of elves. It was only a few seconds later that Legolas realized his heart was beating a fierce, reckless drum.

_It's nothing,_ he thought. _It's absolutely nothing._

  
  


 


	11. One Last Dance

As the festival wore on, Legolas noticed Mìriel becoming less and less shy. She was actually _talking_ to people now, getting involved with them. Sure, usually he was there to make sure she was all right, and they made a habit of dancing with one another, but within a matter of days it seemed that she was more than capable of handling herself, even amongst the social circles of the Sindar. Sometimes he would be worried that she would keep herself on the edges of the party again, her former shyness preventing her from truly enjoying, but on the fifth day of the festival Legolas arrived to find her already surrounded by a few partygoers, engaged in animated conversation. Someone said something funny, and she laughed; not a polite chuckle, but a real laugh that made her toss her head back and her grey eyes light up.

Legolas smiled. _She's perfectly fine without me._ He loved seeing her this way. Happy. Uninhibited. Brave. And that made him feel better about what he told her next.

"I think I've made my choice, Mìriel," said Legolas later on, as he filled a glass of wine for her. "As soon as the festival ends, I shall prepare to leave."

"For Ithilien?" She asked. He nodded. "So what made you decide?"

He handed her the wineglass. "I came here to see how my people fared after the the war. Do my part, if I could. And that part is finished. My father has Tauriel, they are both so happy...they don't need me any longer. There's nothing left for me in Eryn Lasgalen."

Something ached deep inside Mìriel's heart, a feeling so tiny she barely noticed it. "So...when are you leaving?"

"Two weeks." He glanced at her. "Will you...will you be all right without me?"

 _No,_ Mìriel wanted to cry out, but she held herself back. This was his choice, after all. It was not her place to tell him what to do, to make him go against his heart, not when he hadn't forced her to reconsider when she told him she didn't want to come.

"Of course, my prince. I can take care of myself." She forced a smile at him. "But I will never forget how kind you have been to me."

Legolas took her hand and kissed it gently. "It was my pleasure, my lady. You are, after all, a most honored guest."

 _Guest._ That was all she was, after all. Mìriel realized it after nearly a year. Any kindness Legolas had shown her was out of duty. She'd misinterpreted his actions. And perhaps he _did_ like her, but not in the way she had begun to--

_Stop it, Mìriel._

She locked eyes with him again, hoping he could not tell what she was thinking.

"I wish you luck," she said softly.

He smiled at her. "Thank you, my lady."  


* * *

 

The remaining days of the festival, Legolas would speak of nothing but his impending journey. Mìriel could definitely see how important it was to him. His eyes lit up with excitement when he talked about the things he was going to do, all the friends he might see again. Quite a number of other young elves were interested in what he had to say, and were eager to come and join him.

By the last day of the festival, Mìriel found herself on the brink; as if she stood right at the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast abyss. After today, Legolas would start preparing for his trip, and Mìriel would be...

 _I'm going to be exactly the way I was when I first came here,_ she thought, _alone._

She tilted her head back and let the contents of her sixth glass of wine (strong, Dorwinion wine, the kind that would knock any other mortal being out after their second glass only) slide down her throat. She watched Legolas converse rapidly with a group of their mutual friends, unable to even imagine life in Eryn Lasgalen without the one person who had actually made her feel at home. Even in the crowded glade, under star and moonlight, he seemed to her like the only other person there, a point of focus that had never been more _real,_ making that moment even more clear and present. And beyond that, to the morning after and all the days to come? Mìriel saw nothing. Just a blur of loneliness and uncertainty and an empty feeling she was sure she would come to know very well.

Legolas caught her eye, and smiled at her. At once all feelings of apprehension and fear evaporated, and Mìriel pushed them away. _Now is all that matters._ A small voice in the back of her head warned her that maybe she'd had too much wine, but she pushed that thought away too. She wasn't that tipsy...was she?

She extended a hand to him. "Will you dance with me, my prince? One last time."

"My lady," he said, eyes bright, "this is new."

"Think of it as a way of saying thank you," she replied as he took her hand. And it was she who pulled him to the center of the clearing and led their last dance.

It felt like a dream, as if all of infinity had been held in that one dance they shared. The music was not too slow, but not too upbeat either; a nostalgic and tender tune that swelled gently and softly as the pair twirled across the floor. They held each other almost reverently, as if both of them knew this moment would never happen again. And then, just when they thought it would last forever, the song ended.

Legolas bowed to her slightly, then straightened. He was closer to her than he was when they started the dance, and Mìriel just wanted to stand there and stare into his eyes. Valar almighty, he was just flawless, wasn't he? If there was anything she could do, anything at all, to make this moment last just a little bit longer, she would do it in a heartbeat...

Legolas' eyes sparkled. "Joyous spring, Mìriel." It made her giggle softly despite herself.

"Joyous spring, Legolas," she murmured, before leaning forward and kissing his lips.  


 

 


	12. What Happened Last Night?

It was a light kiss, a soft kiss, but the kind that would have gone farther if only it had lasted. That was the thing, though. It didn't last.

She felt him put his hands on her shoulders and for a second thought giddily that he was going to pull her closer, but instead, he pushed her off. Gently, carefully, but firmly, making sure there was a significant distance between them. And when their eyes met, Mìriel could see that he was looking at her in shock and surprise like she was a stranger-- a mad stranger who had done an outrageous thing.

Maybe she had.

"Mìriel, are you all right?" Legolas said, breathless and puzzled. The room seemed to spin around her-- maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the thrill-- but more possibly it was the shock and disappointment she felt at his reaction.

_You're such an idiot, Mìriel!_

"I'm sorry," she said, backing away. "I'm sorry, my prince. Forgive me--" she stumbled slightly, and Legolas steadied her.

"It's the wine," Mìriel blurted out. "I've had too much."

"I think you have," said Legolas uncertainly. She pushed his hands away, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to never see him again.

"I have to-- to go...back to my quarters--"

"I'll take you," Legolas offered, but Mìriel shook her head vigorously.

"No. No need. I'm sorry, Legolas." She bit her lip. "Um, goodnight."

Mìriel tore herself away from him and swept out of the glade, into the trees beneath the moonlight, all the way back to the palace, and quite unexpectedly felt a warm drop of liquid on her face. _Is it raining?_ She thought drunkenly, before realizing that the liquid was warm and salty and coming from her eyes.

There was a buzzing in the back of Legolas' head as he watched her go, and his mind was numb. _What was that for? Why did she do that?_ He could still feel the sensation of her soft lips on his. It came as a surprise and a shock, and he had no idea what to do. Or, even, how to feel.

Legolas glanced around at the rest of the partygoers, wondering if anyone else had seen that. It looked like they hadn't, thankfully. But even from the other side of the glade, his father caught his eye, and Legolas knew he'd been watching. 

Now Thranduil glared, as if to say _what was all_ _that about?_

Sighing, Legolas stalked into the trees, hoping to catch up with Mìriel before she tripped over a tree branch or something. He called to her, but she did not answer, and soon he found himself far from the party and all alone between the dark trees, unable for the first time to find her when she hid herself.

* * *

 

Mìriel woke up the next morning with a hangover and one realization:

That. Was. _Stupid._

Why did she have to show him how she really felt? Especially with him planning to leave for Ithilien? She couldn't mess up his life like that, especially when it was clear that he didn't care about her in the same way. If Mìriel kept acting like this, she'd confuse the poor boy. And she couldn't do this to herself; keep right on thinking that she had a chance when destiny had set their paths far away from each other. No, the last thing he needed was a lovesick lass left behind in Eryn Lasgalen.

Luckily, as far as she remembered, both of them had blamed it on the alcohol-- and if all went well, she could just tell him that she was drunk and giddy and felt nothing for him.

She could do that. She could lie, couldn't she?

Groaning, Mìriel got out of bed.

In the common area of the chambers she shared with her mother, Mìriel found Lady Inara, daintily sipping at a cup of tea.

"You seem to have enjoyed yourself, Mìriel," she said crisply. "I never took you for such a heavy drinker." Her expression became concerned. "Why did you leave so early?"

"I was...getting drunk," Mìriel mumbled, "and I did not want to do anything...embarrassing. Unbecoming. Regrettable." _Well, that one kiss ended up being all those things at once._ "Did you have fun?"

"Oh, I did, very much," Lady Inara said happily. "That Lord Eldoris, he is _quite_ the dancer, isn't he? So talented and smooth. And a _Noldor_ nobleman, too... Where are you going?" she said suddenly, seeing her daughter get up and withdraw into the dressing room.

"Library," came the reply. "Somewhere I can clear my head."

~~~

In the library, someone else was trying to clear his head too.

Legolas walked between bookshelves, trying to get the memory of the kiss out of his mind. It baffled him, to say the least. Was Mìriel just drunk, or did she care for him in the way her actions implied? He still wasn't sure what to think. Although, to be honest...

He'd wanted to kiss her back. He really, really did.

But she had been drunk, and unaware of what she was doing, and he couldn't take advantage of her in that way.

In any case, Legolas worried about her-- that much Dorwinion wine could cause a headache that would last for hours. And though he hadn't seen her yet, he lingered in the library, hoping to find her and clear things up for certain. _I have to know before I leave._  

As luck would have it, Legolas found her at the usual table, staring at a large scroll. But her eyes were still, not really reading it.

"My lady?" He said softly. She looked up.

"Oh," mumbled Mìriel hoarsely. "My prince. I supposed such an encounter would be inevitable." She put away the scroll. "I meant to apologize for my actions last night..."

"It's all right."

"No, it isn't," Mìriel said, more adamantly this time. She stood up so she was on eye level with Legolas. "I...acted out of place, Legolas. I got carried away. I assure you that I did not mean to do what I did."

Legolas felt both relief and, strangely enough, a hint of disappointment. _So she doesn't feel anything for me._ "I only wanted to make sure you were all right after how much you'd drunk," he said gently.

Mìriel gave him a small smile. "It could've been worse. Did anybody see...?"

"No one," Legolas assured her. "Well, only my father." He chuckled at her gasp of surprise. "He thought nothing of it, though."

"Well. That's good," Mìriel said, relieved. "Because I really...I really didn't mean for that to happen." She kept her head bowed. "Tell your father that he has no reason to worry. I shall behave at the next festival." _Definitely, because chances are you won't even be here._

"I will be sure to do that." Legolas tried to meet her eyes again, the way he did all those months ago when they first shared that apple together in the gardens, that damned apple that had led to all of this. "Mìriel?"

"Yes, my prince."

"I leave for Ithilien in two weeks. I hope you will not be so lonely when I am gone."

She looked up into his blue eyes and thought _don't do this to me._

"I won't be, I promise," Mìriel said, getting the words out despite the lump forming in her throat. "But I shall miss you. You are my dearest friend." _Friend._ That's not so hard to say, isn't it?

Legolas smiled. "And you are mine."

_Yours. If only._

 


	13. Father Knows Best

Two weeks. She had that long to forget about him and the way he made her feel. It wasn't as hard as she thought it was, with all the new friends she had made. Besides, Legolas was preparing for his long journey. 

M ì riel threw herself into the shifts she ran at the infirmary and spending free time with her new friends; lords and ladies around her own age who liked to laugh and talk, and who faced the oncoming ages of peace with hope and pride. If she ever saw Legolas, it was in fleeting moments, when they exchanged no more than smiles and glances.

Not three days before his date of departure, M ì riel ran into Tauriel in the hallway. She would have been content to give the other elf a small smile and go on her way, but Tauriel stopped her.

"M ì riel!" She said cheerfully. "I haven't seen you in a while. Are you...going to meet Legolas somewhere?"

M ì riel blinked. "Oh no...no I am not. I'm afraid the prince is busy. We did see each other in the library, earlier..."

"Oh." Tauriel tilted her head. "And where are you going now?"

"I..." Where  _ was  _ she going? "I'm not sure, actually." M ì riel managed a chuckle. "Nowhere, I suppose. What about you?"

Tauriel smiled. "Nowhere, either." 

"I assumed you would be in the company of our good king," M ì riel replied, and almost regretted it as soon as she said it. 

Luckily, Tauriel laughed. "No! Thranduil is busy at the moment." She put a hand on Mìriel's shoulder. "Look at us, two girls with nothing better to do. Come along, my lady."

"Now where are we going?" said Mìriel, bewildered. 

"We're going to have some fun."   
  


* * *

 

"I can't put a finger on it," said Legolas, pacing in the throne room. "I feel as if something is...is missing." He looked up at his father. "Am I forgetting something?"

"You're leaving in three days, Legolas. Surely if you had forgotten something, you would remember it in due time," said Thranduil. He watched his son with mild concern. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

Legolas frowned. "Second thoughts are exactly what I'm having." He resumed pacing. "Like perhaps this isn't the best idea-- no, what am I talking about? I  _ want  _ this. I just...I don't know, Father."

The king's face betrayed nothing. "It would be unfit for a prince to abandon his mission, especially after so many have decided to join you."

"I will not abandon this mission," Legolas said determinedly, but more to himself than to his father. "I just  _ wish  _ I knew for sure what was wrong." 

"Is it a feeling of foreboding? As if a tragedy would happen when you left?"

Legolas shook his head. "Unlike Lord Elrond, I never did have the gift for precognition. No, Father, this is something else." He looked up, anxious. "I'm missing something. That's all. Now if I could only figure out what it was...I could leave in peace."

He started to pace around again, more briskly this time. Thranduil watched him. Already he had begun to guess what was stirring in his son's heart, but refrained from mentioning it. Legolas could figure this out on his own, couldn't he?

Ah, blast it all.

"If I may, ion-nin," said Thranduil, sitting upright in order to get the prince's attention. "You don't think this has anything to do with Lady Mìriel, do you?"

Legolas' pacing became decidedly more aggressive. "What about her."

Thranduil tutted. "Do you take me for a fool? I saw what happened on the last day of the festival."

"Father, I told you, it was nothing. She was drunk and it was nothing; it won't happen again."

"Be that as it may, the pair of you seem to be very close friends." The king put a significant emphasis on the word  _ friends.  _ Since that was the word Legolas had chosen to use when referring to Mìriel, although he wasn't fooling his own father. "Don't you think this is because you will miss her? More than miss her?"

"Of course I will. I already do," said Legolas. "I asked her to come with me, but she chose to stay. I cannot hold that against her. I must follow my own heart, as well.'

"Sometimes we misread what our own hearts tell us," Thranduil replied. He cocked his head. "I take it she does not know how you feel about her?"

At that point Legolas, usually so sure-footed, stumbled slightly and had to regain his balance. He faced his father. "What?"

"Or rather," Thranduil said, maddeningly calm, "do  _ you  _ know how you feel about her?"

"Mìriel is...Mìriel is a good friend," Legolas said. "I have wanted nothing more than for her to feel at home in your realm. For her to feel safe." He paused. "And I never wanted her to feel unimportant, or not worth listening to, because she  _ is,  _ Father. She's intelligent and independent and the most honest person I have met in a long time. And she doesn't know. She doesn't know how truly...wonderful she is." Legolas groaned and threw his hands up. "All right. When she kissed me that night, I almost believed-- I almost  _ wanted  _ to believe-- that she meant it." His shoulders sagged. "It felt like she meant it. But she couldn't have, and that was the only thing that stopped me from kissing her back."

There, it was out. Legolas had never been so forward with his father before. But, indeed, never had  Thranduil ever bothered to find out what exactly it was he was feeling. 

"And afterward, she told you..."

"That it was nothing," said Legolas. "It does not matter, Father. In three days I shall be gone and I will forget about her."

Thranduil watched his son almost amusedly. "You won't."

Legolas said nothing, but he knew his father was right. No matter how hard he tried, he knew he couldn't ever forget Mìriel-- not just because of that kiss, that kiss which she claimed meant nothing, but because of how close they had become. Her eyes, her smile, her soft voice and sharp mind, the way she listened to him when he had no one else. He knew he'd give anything to feel her lips on his again, at least just once, but knew it wouldn't be the same if Mìriel really did not love him. 

Thranduil spoke again, more off-handedly this time. "But who knows? There will be other women."

Legolas looked up, meeting his father's eyes. "Not like her."

A small smile appeared on a Thranduil's lips. Legolas caught sight of it. All at once the realization broke over him like a wave.

"Valar almighty," he whispered. 

"I think you know what you have been missing," the king said. "Now, even if you cannot call off your mission, you can still grant yourself peace of mind and tell her--"

"But she as good as told me that she doesn't feel the same way." With those words, Legolas suddenly seemed again like a small child in his father's eyes. An innocent, vulnerable Elfling whose heart was still fragile. 

Thranduil put a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder. "I had heard stories of a brave Elf who joined the Fellowship and fought against the forces of the Dark Lord despite the odds." He looked his son in the eye. "I would be disappointed if I found out this Elf was not quite as brave in love as he appeared to be in war."

There was a very long pause before his son finally spoke.

"I must find her."

 

 


	14. Shooting the Rapids

"This is what I like to do when I need a breather," Tauriel explained. She put her boot on the edge of the canoe and shoved it hard into the water, where it splashed and bobbed. She looked at Mìriel and beamed. "Come on!"

"I'm not so sure," Mìriel stammered. "It's...it's safe, isn't it?" Since Tauriel had led her down to the edge of the river, she was beginning to feel rather apprehensive.

"Perfectly," Tauriel reassured her. She jumped in, then helped Mìriel aboard after her. Mìriel sat down awkwardly, gripping the edges of the craft tight.

"And the river just...goes down to Esgaroth?"

A twinkle leapt into Tauriel's eye as she lifted the paddle expertly. "Yes, but you'd still better hold on."

With a push of the paddle, the little boat went speeding across the surface of the river. It went quickly and steadily, and Tauriel seemed to handle it very well, so Mìriel began to relax. Lined by serene trees in spring bloom all around them, the river actually seemed tranquil and quiet.

That was when she saw the white water.

"Tauriel!" Mìriel exclaimed, as they neared the boulders and quickening currents. "Are you _sure_ you can navigate this?"

"I do it all the time!" Tauriel crowed back. "Just _hold on_!" And at that moment, the current pulled them forward and swirled them about in a flurry of water.

Mìriel screamed, Tauriel whooped, and the river boiled and churned all around them, splashing over them and soaking their hair, making the boat lurch and spin wildly. Mìriel ended up grabbing Tauriel by the midriff, but that didn't distract the red-haired elf; she dug her paddle in determinedly, keeping the boat upright, or used it to push off from nearby boulders so they shot forward and bounced over the wild waters.

"Duck!" exclaimed Tauriel, and the pair dropped their heads as the boat sped beneath a fallen tree. They looked up just in time to keep the boat upright as it plunged down a fierce current. As the boat dipped and tilted, Mìriel found herself screaming with laughter. She loved the speed, and the thrill the waves gave her as they splashed over her body, and the fact that _no single part of the river ever remained the same_ \-- it rushed and ran and flowed wherever it wished. It was a force of nature, unchained and untamed, and yet here they were, hitching a free joyride.

She and Tauriel went right on screaming even after they'd sped out of the treacherous waters and into the stillness of lake Esgaroth.

Mìriel threw up her hands as the little boat steadied itself and spun out into the lake. "That-- was-- AMAZING!"

"I told you so," Tauriel replied, chuckling.

 

* * *

 

"I first discovered how wild the river truly was sixty-three years ago, when the dwarves of Thorin's company escaped down it in barrels," Tauriel explained, as the girls paddled home. "Shooting the rapids have been a hobby of mine ever since." The river Tauriel used to get back home ran through Mirkwood and was much less dangerous than the first, but narrower still. It would take them right to the path that led to the kingdom gates. They finally moored the boat on the riverbank and sat on the logs under the trees, wringing their long hair out.

"So Legolas is leaving in three days," Tauriel said, and in reply Mìriel only nodded. "Thranduil's had to ask him a million times if he was sure he wanted to."

"Legolas does want to," Mìriel said softly. "I think...after everything that has happened to him...the thirst for adventure is still strong in his heart."

"Did he not ask you to join him?" Tauriel asked. Mìriel shook her head.

"No-- I mean, he did. But I told him I wouldn't. I've just made a life here, after all." She glanced at Tauriel. "What about you? You're quite a team. I would think he might ask you to join him as well."

Tauriel smiled. "I have Thranduil. I'm not going anywhere."

"Ah, of course." Mìriel smiled back. "I am happy for you, Tauriel. The two of you seem to have it all figured out."

"Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't," Tauriel replied, "but we work out our differences anyway. We make sacrifices for each other. And every single time, it is worth it." She plucked a wet leaf off Mìriel's shoulder.

"Legolas told me you...loved a dwarf, back in the day," Mìriel dared ask. Tauriel's smile became a sad one.

"Kili. Yes, Thorin's nephew. He was killed and I was heartbroken." She sighed. "Not for what little there had passed between us, but for what might have been. For the time stolen away from us that would have proved if we were indeed meant to be together."

"I am so sorry," Mìriel said in an undertone. "Forgive me, Tauriel, I did not understand...it must have been so hard to love again after what happened."

Tauriel folded her hands peacefully. "I thought I never would love again. So did Thranduil, all those years ago when the queen died. But losing these people...I suppose it brought us together. It is why we are still together, now."

 _She is wise._ Mìriel started to braid her hair back again. "Are you planning to marry?"

Tauriel laughed. "Oh, Mìriel! I don't know. Perhaps."

"Then you'd be a queen," teased Mìriel.

"Queen! No...Not me. I don't think I could ever replace the queen in Thranduil's eyes, no matter how much we do love each other..." She trailed off wistfully and returned the attention back to Mìriel. "But you and Legolas...forgive _me_ , Mìriel, but I really did think there was something there. Something between the two of you."

Mìriel shook her head with her own sad smile. "There wasn't. I thought there was--"

"You thought?" Tauriel pounced on her words eagerly.

"Yes-- no-- I don't know!" said Mìriel, suddenly blushing furiously. "We were both trying to fit in in this place, I was lonely and he was kind to me-- was there any way I wouldn't have taken a liking to him?"

"It sounds like more than a liking to me," said Tauriel evenly.

"I might have let my imagination run away," Mìriel said. She sat up straighter. "But there is nothing, Tauriel, I can assure you. He sees me as nothing more than an honored guest here, that is all." Her voice dropped, almost disappointedly. "His kindness has only been out of duty to me."

"But how do _you_ see him?" Tauriel pressed, and Mìriel was beginning to feel exasperated. Yet something in her tone coaxed the truth out of her, ever so softly. She took a shuddering, resigned breath.

"He is the reason why I feel at home here now. He made me feel like I belonged." Mìriel looked up. "And now he is going away, and I fear that things will not be the same. Yet I cannot ask him to stay if he does not want to."

They were silent for a minute before Tauriel spoke. "You're going to miss him, aren't you?"

Mìriel nodded. "More than he knows," she said in a hoarse, soft voice.

It was no good hiding it now, Mìriel thought. Tauriel knew. In fact, she had probably known for a long time. She'd seen the sparks flying between them even before Mìriel herself would acknowledge them.

But oh, she saw them now, and they lit the way for what she had to do next.

"I have to tell him, don't I?" she said quietly. Smiling widely, but gently, Tauriel nodded.

"Before he leaves. At least he will know."

 

 


End file.
